


in excess, in lack

by architecture_in_f1ll0ry



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cock Warming, Extramarital Affairs, Infidelity, Longing, M/M, Mild Praise Kink, Mutual Pining, Pining, Secretly Requited Love, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28799418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/architecture_in_f1ll0ry/pseuds/architecture_in_f1ll0ry
Summary: Tenzin goes to the South Pole to train Avatar Korra in airbending, but Amon's escalating revolution soon brings him back to Republic City, and back into the arms of his lover.(Technically an AU of Lenticular's Tenzin's Affair 'verse, which, if you haven't read, you should do, expeditiously.)
Relationships: Tarrlok/Tenzin (Avatar)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 17





	in excess, in lack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lenticular](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenticular/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Crawl Into My Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25767682) by [Lenticular](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenticular/pseuds/Lenticular). 



> chapter 21 of crawl into my heart broke me, as I knew it would, so I wrote some extremely tender smut to make myself feel better. lenticular, you monster, I love you so much.

In the end, his trip lasts for only two weeks.

The South Pole is, well, as icy and cold as it has always been, but it’s difficult for Tenzin to take real issue with it when Korra’s broad smile upon his arrival blazes brighter than the sun. 

Desperate for a change to her daily routine, and a reprieve from her dour-faced mentors, Korra clings to his side, eager to learn airbending, to prove herself worthy of her title. Her protests at Tenzin’s early morning wake-up calls are surprisingly minimal, despite her love of sleep—though she unwittingly attempts to make up for that lack during meditation a few times, dozing off with gentle snores until Tenzin, sighing, has to poke her awake. 

It is slow-going, though, her block much more difficult to overcome than Tenzin originally imagined. None of his usual methods work, not that he’s ever had to try that hard; all of his children had taken to their bending with ease and aplomb, and from a much younger age. Korra is...different. Stubborn and unyielding as iron, with the grit and fierce spirit of a firebender, truth be told. Unfortunately, all of that ferocity does not leave much room for inner peace and introspection, two qualities Tenzin knows Korra will need to possess in order to unlock her final element.

And then the call comes—a radio broadcast, the city wires tapped and somehow intercepted, Amon’s grim warning and call to action aired to all of Republic City. The zealot has only grown bolder and more cunning in his absence, and Tenzin needs to be home. He needs to be on the ground, serving the people of Republic City. Protecting his family. That is his responsibility, and a more urgent one, right now, than teaching the teenaged Avatar airbending.

_Responsibility._ The weight pulls at him, as it always does, and the night before his departure, Tenzin lies awake beneath the small mountain of furs, gazing up at the moonlight filtered in through the small window of his hut, mentally casting that responsibility off the best and only way he knows how: remembering icy blue eyes and warm copper skin beneath his hands. Remembering lips pressed to his ear, spilling all sorts of whispered filth that brings the blood rushing to the surface of his skin, a quick, acerbic wit that infuriates and amuses him both. He lies awake, thinking of Tarrlok. It embarrasses him to miss the man this much, but he sees no use in pretending otherwise; denial makes the slow-spreading ache in his chest no less real, no less acute.

Two weeks. He curses Amon and the gathering speed of his terrifying revolution, but a very, very small part of him is relieved to leave the farthest reaches of the world, grateful that the multiple ties binding him to the city will no longer be stretched quite so taut. 

Korra’s tears and pleas the next morning should not be so effective, but Tenzin cannot help but look at her and see Jinora’s wistfulness in her clasped hands, Ikki’s passion in her wide eyes. Her mentors are nearly apoplectic with rage when he informs them that she will be returning to Republic City with him to continue her training, but by that point, he is too preoccupied with thoughts of leaving to care. He loves Korra as if she were one of his own children, and besides, he’s the son of Avatar Aang. The pompous fools can wag their tongues all they like, but his word is, ultimately, law. So he suppresses a smile as Korra dashes around the compound packing her bags, and pretends not to see her stick out her tongue _and_ give them the finger as the ship sails out of the harbor.

* * *

It’s pure chaos when he returns to work at City Hall. He’s immediately besieged by news of Amon and his followers, memos from anxious aides and meeting after meeting with various city stakeholders to discuss the growing threat. In all of the hubbub, he doesn’t encounter Tarrlok until the day is nearly over—which is probably for the best, as he can’t help his double-take at the sight of that familiar frame slipping into his office, heart constricting painfully in his chest at the muted fury in those slitted blue eyes.

“You were supposed to go to the South Pole and _stay there,”_ Tarrlok intones when the door is fully closed behind him, his palm resting on the wood. A barely visible tremble disrupts the straight line of his back, and Tenzin has to clench his hands into fists to prevent himself from launching out of his seat to close the distance between them.

“Things have grown rather dire here, wouldn’t you say?” Tenzin asks mildly. Tarrlok shakes his head, braids swaying, and finally turns fully, his features arranged in a foreboding expression. “Has there been any more correspondence from—”

“No,” Tarrlok interrupts, glancing involuntarily at the expansive windows framing Tenzin’s desk. His voice is low and irritated, but tinged with reluctant, wry amusement. “Though I can say with confidence that that will likely change, now that you’re back in town, you fool.”

This has also crossed Tenzin’s mind, but he’s grown accustomed to ignoring larger truths in favor of keeping Tarrlok around—to his detriment, probably. “Well,” he hedges, hating how far away Tarrlok is, but aware that at any moment an aide will need something, “There’s much turmoil in the city; let’s hope our...friend is too distracted.”

Tarrlok rolls his eyes expansively and opens his mouth to speak at the same time there’s a flurry of anxious knocks, as predicted. Tenzin keeps his eyes on Tarrlok as he raises his voice to respond. “Yes?”

The door opens, admitting a mousy aide, whose eyes widen at the sight of Tarrlok before rushing over to Tenzin with a stack of papers. “Sorry to interrupt, sirs! Councilman Tenzin, I’m supposed to go through these with you—”

“Not at all,” Tarrlok offers with false cheer. “We’ll talk later, Tenzin?” His significant look before leaving burns through him, the _later_ a clear and tantalizing promise. He has to work hard to drag his attention away and focus on the explanation the aide is giving him, not before glancing at the clock with a quiet sigh.

Hours later, after the sun has sunk beneath the gold and azure-flecked horizon, Tenzin snaps open his glider to traverse a familiar path through the still evening air, coming to a gentle landing on Tarrlok’s roof. There’s a puzzling alchemy at work every time he does this, every time he pulls open the heavy door and descends the short staircase, each successive step quieting the blend of remorse and longing that churns ceaselessly through him. Until the gentle rasp of the door opening, Tarrlok’s hand twisting into the front of his robes suppresses all of the other internal noise entirely, leaving only the frantic drumming of his pulse in his ears. 

The sound of a door slammed shut, and the kiss is desperate and molten, Tarrlok’s tongue shoving against his as firm hands grip at Tenzin’s shoulders. Tenzin can only release a muffled _“oomph!”_ of surprise before his eyes shut, losing himself in the eager embrace of his lover, tugging him closer by his hips. 

Tarrlok moans, bites Tenzin’s lower lip, hard. “You’re such an idiot.” Tenzin chases his mouth, but Tarrlok backs away with a surprisingly neutral expression, a stark contrast to the frenzied ardor of moments before.

“I—yes, you’ve made that known,” Tenzin pants, his eyes drawn to Tarrlok’s fingers as they slowly, methodically unbutton his shirt. He reaches out to touch, but Tarrlok just continues moving, his eyes refracting the gentle golden light of the lone lamp in the room, the very picture of temptation as more skin is revealed. “Tarrlok?”

“Yes?” The shirt falls from his shoulders, and he begins to undo the enclosures to his pants. “Did you come all the way back here just to stare?”

Tenzin is barely aware of his legs moving, following Tarrlok into the bedroom. “No,” he admits, finally getting with the program and beginning to shed his own clothing. 

“Good.” Unashamed, as always, Tarrlok kicks away his pants, straightens to watch Tenzin, smirking when his careful attention brings a flush to the airbender’s skin. “Feeling bashful?”

Nothing and no one can unsettle Tenzin like this, even after all these years of becoming intimately acquainted with each other’s bodies, and it’s a fact that thrills him anew every time. “No,” he answers, unconvincingly, because Tarrlok chuckles, finally stepping closer to bat Tenzin’s hands away and angling his head up for another slow kiss, quick fingers removing the rest of Tenzin’s clothes. And then he turns until his back is to Tenzin, glancing back at him with an almost _demure_ expression that makes Tenzin’s cock twitch. 

“You can take these out, if you want,” he murmurs, and Tenzin inhales, then wastes no time: something rising thick in his throat as he begins unraveling a long, thick braid, collecting the beads in his palm, handing them to Tarrlok so he can run gentle fingers through the waves, rapt. The room is dimly lit and silent, a swelling intimacy filling the space between them, magnified when Tenzin finishes his task and can finally sweep Tarrlok’s loose hair aside, trail a line of deliberate kisses across a bare shoulder.

_I missed you,_ he doesn’t say, because he isn't supposed to, winding an arm around Tarrlok’s waist to pull him closer. _I needed you,_ he doesn’t whisper, pressing his face into Tarrlok’s neck to just breathe, gratified when he receives a soft, quavery moan in response, Tarrlok’s head tipping sideways, his hand clamping over Tenzin’s, threading their fingers together. It’s an overt show of tenderness that Tenzin usually isn’t afforded, so between that and the tight, hot press of Tarrlok’s ass against his stiff cock, it’s no wonder his self-censorship stutters to a halt.

“You were too far away,” he complains quietly, nipping at Tarrlok’s ear, preemptively chiding him for whatever mocking response the confession will elicit. As expected, Tarrlok laughs, but it’s not unkind, and he shifts his fingers to keep their hands loosely clasped as he leads Tenzin to the bed. 

“Always so sentimental,” Tarrlok teases, but there’s something melancholy in his crooked smile, something that compels Tenzin to press him into the soft sheets and capture his mouth in a searching kiss. Tarrlok obliges for several long moments, then pulls away to twist sideways, stretching to reach the oil on the nightstand. 

Tenzin can’t resist admiring the lean curves of his body, his skin dusky in the moonlight, and lowers to drag his tongue against a dark nipple, smiling when it elicits a surprised yelp. 

“Mmmmn, here, c’mon,” Tarrlok says in a rush, pressing the bottle into Tenzin’s hand, his hair a dark pool beneath him—until he turns, canting his hips upward in clear invitation. 

Tenzin’s breath hitches as he sits back, drawing a slow line up the back of a thigh, desire warring with frustration. “I want to see you.”

“Please.” That flicker of melancholy is back, and Tenzin considers, for the first time, that he might not be the only one who struggled during the two weeks they were apart. “Tenzin.”

“Alright.” Coating his fingers in oil, Tenzin stoops to press a kiss to the base of Tarrlok’s spine at the same time that he circles the tight ring of muscle, reveling in the sharp gasp he receives. Tarrlok is impossibly hot and tight around his finger when he pushes past the resistance to breach his hole, arching his back further to encourage more, faster. 

“Always in such a rush,” Tenzin says, the corner of his mouth lifting as Tarrlok huffs, turning his head to glare back at him. “I suppose I should take it as a compliment.”

_“Fuck—off—”_ Tarrlok bites out, moaning plaintively when one finger becomes two, rocking into it the steady thrusts. “We don’t have time for all the teasing." A pause. "Do we?”

Tenzin catches the curious, bracing glint in his eye, understands it instantly. “I told her I wouldn’t be home for dinner, and likely long after that.” 

Tarrlok’s eyes slide shut, a soft whimper falling from his lips as his cock hangs heavy and dripping between his legs. “So make the lie worth it, Tenzin, come on. I’m ready for you.”

Gut churning in pleasure, Tenzin withdraws his fingers and slicks up his cock, grasping Tarrlok’s hips and pushing inside, his heart pounding wildly as Tarrlok gasps out loud. Before he can begin to withdraw, one of Tarrlok’s arms reaches back to awkwardly grab at Tenzin’s waist, fingertips digging into skin, holding him motionless. 

“Come here,” he says, quiet, and Tenzin’s eyes narrow in confusion, aching to move, wondering at the command. Tarrlok usually wants it fast and hard right away, and this time, Tenzin is all too happy to oblige. 

“What? Don’t you want me to—”

Long chestnut hair spills in waves across Tarrlok’s back as he shakes his head, breathing heavily into the pillow, craning his neck to look back at Tenzin. “Just, come here. Stay inside and _come here.”_

Still confused, but unwilling to refuse his lover anything, Tenzin obeys, gritting his teeth as he lowers himself to drape across Tarrlok’s back, letting him shift them so they’re lying on their sides flush together, Tenzin’s hard cock buried deep in his ass. The tight clutch of silken heat is the sweetest torture, and it’s all Tenzin can do to curl his other arm around Tarrlok’s middle and bite, then lick at the back of his neck, head spinning with desire.

Tarrlok hums low and throaty in contentment, trailing gentle fingers up Tenzin’s forearm and back down again before lifting his hand to press a kiss against the inside of his palm. His lips curve into a smile when Tenzin poorly conceals a needy moan against his back. “Now who’s impatient?”

“What—are we g— _why_ do you insist on being such a menace?”

“You love it.” Tarrlok’s smugness is palpable, but Tenzin forgives him some when those slim hips rotate in a tight circle, and again, and again. “No, you don’t move.”

_“Fuck.”_ Tenzin means to whisper it, but can’t quite control his volume in this state, plucked tight and trembling, humming with overwhelming need. That Tarrlok finds humor in this as he sucks two of Tenzin’s fingers into his mouth, shamelessly fellating them with a speed and ferocity directly at odds with the slowness of their fucking—it doesn’t help.

_“Tarrlok!”_

A dark chuckle, and _spirits,_ how he'd missed that sound. “Hm?”

Stymied by the task of assembling words, Tenzin opts for pinching a nipple instead, which backfires when Tarrlok whines in pleasure, clenching hard around him. He sucks a bruise into Tarrlok’s neck in retaliation, and is grateful to find some measure of calm in the pattern of applying pressure with his teeth, soothing it with his tongue, applying more pressure, tasting him again. 

“Are you _trying_ to leave a mark?” Tarrlok asks around his fingers, and chuckles breathlessly at Tenzin’s suspiciously noncommittal noise.

“Your clothes will hide it.” Tenzin feels a fresh blaze of arousal at the very thought, of Tarrlok returning to work tomorrow, buttoned up and dignified with that perfect politician’s poise, still bearing the evidence of Tenzin’s passion just beneath his collar. 

Tarrlok’s soft moan tells him that his thoughts are following a similar track, and the knowledge that he is as affected as Tenzin reverberates in a maddening feedback loop of lust. They can’t possibly get any closer, but Tenzin tries anyway, tightening the arm around Tarrlok’s waist, cataloging everywhere they’re touching: the soft give of Tarrlok’s calf against his shin, the silken spread of lilac-scented hair sandwiched between his chest and Tarrlok’s back, the vise-grip of Tarrlok’s ass, clutched tight and perfect around him.

It’s dangerous, this kind of slow tenderness, because Tenzin holds two incontrovertible truths inside of him at all times, one of which he knows he cannot speak out loud. One of which he can feel swelling within him right now, pressing up against the edges of the boundary Tarrlok had forced him to construct years ago, that afternoon in the museum. 

“You’re thinking too much,” comes Tarrlok’s keen observation, his voice warm and rumbling. 

Tenzin closes his eyes, considering paths taken and not taken, and the inevitability of this, a weakness he could never have predicted, a chaotic tapestry of pure need and something else he cannot begin to untangle. His words are mumbled into the back of Tarrlok’s head. “It’s what I do, apparently.”

“Oh, Tenzin.” A more rocking shift of hips, a subtle surrender. Tenzin hisses as Tarrlok’s ass rubs up against his groin, his movements as fluid and graceful as water. “It's fine, come on, just take what you need.”

Pulse stuttering at the sudden admission, Tenzin presses deeper inside, finally, the words tumbling from his lips before he’s aware he’s thought them. “Need you.”

“Ohhh, _fuck—”_ Tarrlok meets him thrust for thrust, pushing back needily, a hand shooting upward to clutch at the headboard as his breaths quicken. “You have me, I’m right here.”

Words are beyond Tenzin at this point, yanked teetering to the edge as he fucks into Tarrlok faster, letting his body take over. Tarrlok’s bitten off grunts and moans fill his ears, sharpening into high-pitched cries when Tenzin’s hand curls around his leaking cock, stroking him tight and fast, the way he knows he likes it. 

“Please, don’t stop, Tenzin, just, just like that—”

Tenzin growls, lips pressed hotly against Tarrlok’s ear. “My Tarrlok, always so perfect for me. So good—so beautiful—”

“Oh, _fuck,”_ Tarrlok sobs, his voice muffled in the pillow, hips jerking, trapped in a dizzying see-saw of desire. He’s warm, so warm against and around Tenzin, and he can never get enough of this, already half-mournful of the moment it will end, grinding desperately into him to chase down his release even as he wishes to extend it forever, a maddening paradox of pleasure. _“Please,_ Tenzin, I—”

Bracing an arm against the bed to flip them until Tarrlok’s chest is pressed into the mattress, Tenzin grips the divot of his hip tight as he drives into him harder, filling the air with the angry creaks of the bed, staccato smacks of flesh as he feels his orgasm begin to unfurl. Below him, Tarrlok stiffens and _wails,_ shuddering, his cock pulsing heavy and thick over Tenzin’s knuckles. 

“Tarrlok—” Tenzin croaks, voice tight, and Tarrlok’s moan sounds closer to a purr, letting himself be shoved upwards by Tenzin’s final, frantic thrusts. 

“Do it, I want it,” he croons, glancing backwards to meet Tenzin’s gaze, and the sight of those half-lidded eyes, partially obscured by damp strands of hair that stick to his face—it’s enough to make him release a loud grunt, emptying himself into Tarrlok’s still-twitching hole, fucking him through the warm slickness until he has nothing left to give.

When he pulls out, Tarrlok sighs, satiated, turning over with a slight wince before he frees his trapped hair and settles again. Tenzin slumps down beside him and pulls him close, and they lie there, quiet, for several long moments, just regaining their breath.

Tenzin doesn’t realize he’s drifting off until Tarrlok slings a heavy leg over one of his, his head pressed against Tenzin’s chest, his spent cock warm and slowly softening against his thigh. Tenzin drops a kiss onto his head as his fingers find their way into Tarrlok’s hair, combing gently through the long strands. He imagines going to sleep just like this, then waking early in the morning as a creeping blue-yellow dawn suffuses Tarrlok’s east-facing bedroom, watching the gentle spill of sunlight as it illuminates his lover’s sleeping face. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Tarrlok whispers, as if privy to Tenzin’s silly fantasizing by osmosis. “That one will be too difficult to explain away, I think.”

Tenzin sighs, allows himself a moment of self-indulgent annoyance at the reality of his situation. And then he gathers himself again, casting his mind ahead to Pema’s soft smile, the beautiful innocence of his children. Bisecting the disparate parts of himself for self-preservation, at once bearing an excess of and distinct lack of love.

And then Tarrlok lifts his head, tilting it upward in unspoken request, and Tenzin decides to indulge the latter part for a little bit longer, meeting Tarrlok halfway for a languid, open-mouthed kiss. Accepting everything his lover will give him, his quiet yearning for _more_ now familiar enough, intrinsic enough, to ignore.

**Author's Note:**

> these two are canon now. change my mind. you cannot.


End file.
